Daughter of Triton
by finnicko-loves-anniec
Summary: A thunderstorm brings young Prince Finnick to the court sorceress, Mags, for comfort, and he learns far more than he expected. For no one comes from nothing, and behind every woman lies a past. Fantasy AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This occurs in the universe of my Odesta fantasy AU, _When The Clock Strikes Midnight_ and can be read either as a standalone story or a very early prequel. It contains some very mild spoilers for other stories in the universe. As far as the timeline goes, this story takes place 20 and 90-106 years before the beginning of _When The Clock Strikes Midnight_ (don't worry, it'll make sense).

The T rating is for somewhat graphic violence in later chapters.

.oOo.

Thunder blasted through the castle, jarring him from his dreams. The little boy hid under his covers, trying to be brave like Nurse and Nanny always told him to be, but beneath his little fort of navy blankets, he cowered from the storm. Here, he could pretend that it didn't exist. That protection was ripped from him as a shock of lightning illuminated the room. Finnick leapt from his bed in the brief second of light, intent on escaping his room before its accompanying blast sounded.

_Boom_. He winced and grabbed a soft blanket from the top of his bed, dragging it with him towards the door. Nurse, Nanny, and Governess were all asleep, so Finnick tiptoed towards the door that separated the nursery from the rest of the castle, not wanting to wake them. The heavy door squeaked as he opened it, but none of them woke. He stepped into the hall, where a bored guard leaned against the wall between two enormous tapestries.

"What are you up to, sir?" the man asked, crouching down so he was almost at eye-level with the five-year-old prince.

Finnick smiled at him, showing the gap where his first baby tooth had just fallen out. None of his nannies had ever been able to resist that smile, and he hoped that the guard wouldn't either. "My arm hurts. I need the sorceress to fix it." He held out his elbow for inspection, and the guard pretended for a moment to look at his imaginary injury.

"She'll be able to fix you right up, won't she? That sorceress is a clever one."

He nodded seriously. "I really need to go now." He clutched his blanket a bit tighter when another roar of thunder echoed through the halls.

The guard looked up and down the hallway. Seeing that there was nobody else, he turned back to the boy. "All right, Finnick, do you think you can walk by yourself there and back? I'm not supposed to leave my post for another hour." The man's blue eyes were sympathetic, and Finnick liked the sound of his deep voice. He hoped this one would stay for a while. The nice ones always got new positions in better parts of the castle, and he never saw them again.

A chance to walk by himself in the halls at night? Governess Amelia would never allow that. "Yes!" he said eagerly. "I know the way. I've been there lots of times!"

"All right, then, on your way. You let one of the guards know if you're lost." The man lifted himself up off the ground and stretched. "I'll tell your keepers if they come asking where you are."

Finnick forgot to thank the man in his haste to see Mags. Alone, the stone corridors seemed so long, tangled into a labyrinth of winding hallways. He ran, and the sound of scampering little feet echoed back and forth to create a cheerful little song. His blue blanket dragged along the floor, and Nanny would be cross with him tomorrow for dirtying it, but for now, Finnick didn't care. There was thunder to escape and newfound freedom to enjoy, and Mags never thought he was being silly when he got scared.

He hadn't lied to the guard; he did know the way to Mags's chambers, but he'd never gone by himself before. There were a few times that Finnick wasn't exactly sure where he was, but eventually he found his way to the sorceress's chambers. Before he could knock, the door swung open to reveal a small, smiling older woman. "Finnick, dear, I thought I might see you tonight. Care to come in?" She offered him her hand, and the boy let her lead him into her sitting room. A warm fire crackled in the fireplace, and the whole room smelled faintly of the tea that the woman so often drank. "So, tell me what brings you here."

"I was afraid of the thunder," he whispered, looking down at his feet.

Mags messed his fiery red hair, and Finnick leaned into her touch. "There's no shame in that, child. Until they're understood, storms are frightening. I know I was terrified of them as a little girl."

A stroke of lightning hit not far outside the window, and Finnick rushed into the woman's arms, burying his face in her chest as he clutched his blanket close. Mags rubbed his back through the accompanying thunder, and Finnick lost his rigid pose and melted against her. "Breathe, child," she said, and she counted out loud as the little prince took several deep breaths. "How are you feeling?" Mags looked down at his face.

"Better. But I don't want to go back to my room."

She smiled, and the old woman's eyes glittered with love. "You may stay here, if you'd like. I was just about to put a kettle on. Care for some?"

His features twisted in confusion. "Some what?"

"Some tea, dear. I like to drink it while I listen to storms."

"Why do you listen to storms? I thought you said they were scary." Finnick followed her into the other room, where her cheery yellow tea kettle whistled from the corner stove.

Mags took out two cups before she answered, and poured hot tea into each as she spoke. "They certainly did frighten me when I was your age, Finnick, but now they don't. We have an understanding, storms and I." She put dollop of milk into one cup and let Finnick stick in three sugar cubes. "I think that's quite enough," she laughed when he tried to add a fourth.

"Storms don't talk."

"No, but when you're as old as I am, you've seen many storms, and you know that none of them have ever hurt you before. Unlike so many other things, they're the same way I remember them being when I was a little girl." Mags took a long sip from her teacup and looked wistfully at the window, which was still being pelted by heavy raindrops.

Finnick glanced over as well, but after a moment, he turned back to the sorceress. "I still don't like them."

"You have many, many years until you're as old as me. Maybe you'll like them more then."

"I don't think so." He tried to sneak a sugar cube out of the bowl, but Mags shooed his hand away.

The old woman shook her head at him. "What am I going to do with you, Finnick Odair?" she asked.

"Tell me a story?"

She laughed. "Let's go sit somewhere more comfortable." He splashed just a bit of tea on himself as he ran over to the old, wooden rocking chair in Mags's sitting room, but he dabbed it away with his blanket as he waited for Mags to join him. "Aren't you getting a little big to sit on my lap?" asked Mags.

Finnick looked up at her, green eyes wide, and pouted. "Please?"

"Of course, love, I was just teasing." She sat down, and Finnick quickly climbed up onto her lap.

He snuggled closer. These times, with his blanket, sugary tea, and Mags, were his favorite. "What's the story about?"

"Which story would you like to hear?"

"I want to hear a new story." Finnick stuck his thumb in his mouth. Mags wouldn't scold him for it the way Nanny Martha would.

Mags thought for a moment before she nodded. "I think I know just the one."

"What is it about?" he asked, his words garbled slightly by his thumb.

"It's about a girl not much older than you who lived by the sea."

Finnick smiled. He loved it when court moved to Tertensail, the royal family's seaside palace. It was a time for fishing and swimming and exploring, nothing like the often cold, dreary halls of Carthile Palace. "What happened to her?"

Mags rearranged him on her lap so that his head rested more comfortably against her chest. "For that, child, you'll have to listen."

Her voice was not much louder than a whisper, but its strength conveyed a century's worth of wisdom. "Many, many years ago, a young girl lived by the sea, just as I said before. She had a father, a brother, and two sisters –"

"And a mother?" Finnick asked.

Mags stroked his soft red hair. "No, dear, she didn't have a mother. Her mother had passed away a few years before. The family was saddened by her death, but life goes on, and together, they created a happy life. For though they were not rich, the ocean provided them with everything they needed: the father and her brother fished for food, and she and her sisters repaired nets for the other fishermen to earn them a bit of money. They worked hard, yes, but their home was beautiful, and they loved each other, so every drop of sweat and hour of labor was worth it.

"But this girl did not see the life her family lived for what it was; she could not see the value of a simple life and longed for a world of grander things. She wanted adventure, and she would gladly leave everything she had behind in pursuit of excitement.

"So it was to her great joy that one day she found something far more powerful than she could possibly have understood at the time. Our hero, you remember, was at home with the sea, so often she had seen the worn, smooth rocks that the waves bring to the shore. But this day, something special caught her eye. Two brilliant green stones, each the perfect size to fit in the palm of her hand, sat next to each other in the sand. Though gulls often steal anything that shines, the birds had not touched these beautiful rocks. When she went to pick them up, the girl could see that they were not just similar, but perfectly identical, for every surface on one was exactly replicated on the other. Thinking them a special treasure, she pocketed them, thinking she could sell them in the market for a few extra tessa.

"That evening, when the girl was alone, she took them out to study them more closely. Even in the darkness, the stones shone as if a flame had been frozen deep inside. She rubbed the cloth of her dress against them to see if cleaning would elicit an even brighter sparkle, and through the cloth, she could feel the stones growing warmer. Each now glowed a darker green, and when she grabbed one, she felt a spark pass through her entire being."

"They weren't normal rocks, were they?" Finnick asked.

Mags smiled and looked towards her curio cabinet, where two emerald stones sat. "No, they weren't normal in the slightest."

.oOo.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I intend for this to be a fairly short multichapter work – right now, I'm planning on 5 or 6 chapters. I'd love to know what you think of it so far! This chapter was written using the prompt 'empathy' from Caesar's Palace. Thanks again,

~finnicko-loves-anniec


	2. Chapter 2

Mags set the stones down on the bed she shared with her sisters and studied them for long minutes. Their inner fire continued to burn, but they lightened again as she watched despite her earlier attempts at cleaning them. She heard a creak and stuffed the stones under her pillow before turning around to confront the newcomer. "What are you doing?" asked Mathilda.

She considered telling her sister everything, but when she opened her lips to speak, a lie came out instead. "Nothing."

"You have _something_," the other girl insisted. She walked towards the bed. "You've never been a very good liar, Mags. Come on, what are you hiding?"

"I said it's nothing," Mags insisted, but her older sister lunged for the pillow.

"What the hell?" the other girl asked as her hand hit the cool rocks. She held them out, admiring their twinkle in the dimly lit room. Mathilda looked up at Mags and smirked. "These are nothing, eh?"

Mags looked down in guilt, and her cheeks flushed red. "You can't tell. I don't know what they are yet."

"The answer seems pretty obvious to me." She looked to her older sister in question. "They're rocks, Mags, nothing more. Come back to reality."

She turned the green stones over in her hand. "Though, I'll admit, these do seem interesting. I bet they'll fetch a good price at market."

"I can't sell them." Mags hadn't known she would say that before the words escaped, but she knew that this was the right choice. She snatched the stones away from Mathilda, cradling them in her hands as if they were the most precious gems of the king's treasury.

Her sister looked at her, confused. "Any specific reason why? You know we could always use the money - are a couple pretty rocks really worth a week's food?"

Her cheeks flushed in guilt, but Mags stood firm. "Yes. These are special. I don't know what they are, but I know that I can't let them go with whoever will pay the most." her eyes took on a pleading angle. "Please, Mathilda, don't tell anyone about this. Not 'till I'm ready. Promise me?"

"Mags, I'm not sure what you think you're doing, but -"

"_Promise_."

Her sister sighed. "All right, I won't tell. But don't do anything foolish. I don't want you getting hurt because you've gone and done something reckless on one of your harebrained schemes."

Mags crossed her arms over her chest. "My schemes, as you call them, are anything but harebrained."

"If that's what you'd like to believe." Her sister grinned, but her expression soon turned somber. "But really, Mags, do stay safe. That's all that's really important to any of us, far more important than the money or a couple rocks. Promise you'll keep yourself out of trouble?" Mags stayed silent, and eventually her sister left her alone with only two stones and her thoughts.

She tried again and again to recreate the spark she had felt earlier, turning the green stones over in her hands, clenching them with varying degrees of firmness, anything she could think of that could have caused that reaction. No matter what she did, nothing happened. Mags threw one of the stones down onto the bed in anger, half-convinced that she had only imagined the rush of energy before. The door rattled, and the small trunk in the corner of the room shook. She held her breath and waited for one of her family members to come and check on her. Thirty heartbeats later, she let it go and hurried over to the door and trunk to investigate. There was still nothing more than a few of her mother's old clothes inside, the hinges and leather handle were still well-worn, and the wood on the inside was still marred by dozens of scuff marks.

But yet, something was different. Mags could sense a kind of light around the trunk now, not one she could see, but like a gentle scent that hung in the air, waiting, no, _begging _to be recognized. She grabbed the stones from her bed and put them into her apron pocket and carefully knotted the pocket shut. Mags would never lose these, for they were something precious indeed.

.oOo.

She scuttled off alone after dinner and woke earlier than anyone else in the morning to discover the stones' hidden secrets. After a few weeks, Mags could almost always elicit a reaction from the rocks; after a few months, it was generally the reaction she wanted. She could make the trunk open and close seemingly of its own accord and create soft, glowing lights that hovered above her palm. Every discovery only made her crave more. Mathilda, as far as Mags knew, never mentioned her newfound obsession to her father or other siblings. Except for a few curious glances, they ignored the change that had come over her. While she wove nets with Mathilda and Arigold, she did not sing or talk as they did, but instead thought of the stones stowed safely away in her pockets, thinking of what she would do with them when she could be alone again, wondering what allowed them their power.

When a sorcerer came to her little town early the next winter, she believed she had her answer. The man could turn the fisherman's catch into birds of colors she'd only seen in the temple's stained-glass windows and darken the square to a midnight black at noon. Those spectacles only lasted an instant, but he also fixed broken bones with a wave of his hand a few mumbled words. Mags could feel echoes of her own experiments in the man's work, familiar vibrations that made the stones in her pocket warm. She had to speak to him, to discover what the world of magic she had happened upon truly held.

It was not a young girl's place to ask a strange man for help, but as his last day in the village neared, Mags found the courage to approach him. She slipped away early from supper, her family so accustomed to her excuses now that they hardly bothered to even look up as she left. Alone, she hurried towards the village's inn. The door creaked as she opened it, and she found the sorcerer hunched over the bar, ale in hand. Mags paused for an instant, wondering if the man would notice her, and the barmaid smiled and nodded towards her, but the sorcerer did not turn. She took a deep, steadying breath and approached him. "Good evening," she said.

He spun around too quickly, losing his balance halfway through and tumbling off his chair. The sorcerer cursed and pushed himself back up. "Who are you?" He glared at her.

"I'm Margaret Donnelly." She took a few hesitant steps towards him. "I wanted to talk to you about magic."

He looked over her, his eyes pausing at her shoeless feet and calloused hands then shrugged. "I suppose I don't have anything else to do. Come here, sit down." The man slurred his words, but he seemed friendly enough, so Mags perched herself on the stool next to his, her feet dangling inches above the floor. "Tell me - Maggie, did you say? – what it is you're looking to learn."

"I heard that there are items that…" she searched for the right words, "_create _a kind of magic that lets you do little tricks and such."

"Who have you heard this from?"

She thought for a second. "I read it in a book."

He snorted. "There aren't any books like that in a town this size. No, you heard that somewhere else, and you heard wrong, too. No objects create magic – that only comes from people. There are certain items that can magnify your powers, definitely, but nothing like what you're describing." He took another long swig of ale. "Ignorant folk you lot are."

"Well, where'd you learn your magic? Maybe it's just different." Mags knew, deep down, that the people of Lilton-on-Carath were indeed ignorant of magic, having had no sorcerers of their own for generations, but she would not allow an outsider to attack her home.

"Me? I learned my ways from a sorcerer in Taramin by the name of Shogart. He was good at what he did, I'll give him that, but he was more interested in book learning than doing anything practical. Not me. No, I won't stay cooped in some library 'til I collapse dead. I'll see the world for myself and enjoy every minute of it. Beautiful landscapes, beautiful women…"

Mags stopped listening to the man's ramblings. She had everything she needed now. "Thank you so much for your time," she said as she hopped off of the stool.

"Always nice to see someone who's interested." He drained the last few drops of ale from his mug, then stared happily down into the bottom. Mags suspected he was admiring his own reflection, but she said nothing. Grateful that he didn't seem to suspect anything of her, she nodded to the Rosalie, the barmaid, and slipped outside.

.oOo.

Mags' interest in magic only increased from that day on. She devoted herself to learning everything she could of the ancient art. Slowly, the rest of her family realized that she would never outgrow her interest, that magic would be no quickly-forgotten phase for the young woman. They left her alone to coax spells from her fingers.

She was too focused on the stones in her palms to hear the knock on her door. Mags jumped when someone tapped on her shoulder. "It's all right, Mags. Just me," said her father.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"Or say hello twice." He smiled, but the grin didn't quite reach his eyes. Mags tried to apologize, but he brushed away her attempts with a wave of his hand. "May I sit with you?"

She nodded. "What's wrong, Papa?" she asked. Mags had not seen her father look so worn since the dark days after Mama's death. His skin sagged around his eyes, and there was an ashenness to his complexion that had never been there before.

He was silent for a long moment, and only when she opened her mouth again to ask if he was all right did he speak again. "Mags, are you happy here?"

"Of course I am!" His eyes met hers, and Mags tore away from his gaze to look down at her hands. Her tongue felt too heavy to move, and her eyes itched with unshed tears.

He wrapped his arms around her. "It's all right if you aren't, love. I want what's best for you, and if that means leaving Lilton-on-Carath for one of the big towns so you can keep up with your magic, then that's what you need to do. Not everyone's meant to be a fisherman or a housewife, and you might just be one of them that's not. Don't let us keep you here if it isn't what you want."

She clutched him tighter. "I don't know what I want."

"You're eleven, Mags. No one expects you to." He patted her shoulder and tried to gently pull away from her, but Mags held tight. Her father was all muscle and sea salt and sweat from working on the fishing boats, and the combination had always been a comforting constant for her. He pushed a lock of red hair away from her eyes so he could look at her face. "But when you are old enough, know that you can do whatever's right for you with my blessing, you hear?"

She nodded. Yes, she heard.

.oOo.

Five years of study, contemplation, and practice passed. She mended broken bones and calmed more raging fevers than she could hope to count. At the village's festivals for the Spirit, she performed tricks for the children. In short, Mags became the most impressive sorceress that Lilton-on-Carath had produced in generations.

It was nowhere near enough.

"Father, can I speak with you?" she asked as she started to clear the dinner table.

Papa's eyes were worried, but he nodded and stayed in the kitchen with her as her sisters left. "You've made up your mind, then?" His voice sounded older than Mags remembered.

She nodded. "I can't stay here, Papa. I want so badly for home to be enough, but it isn't, and I don't think it ever will be." Mags' gaze snapped towards the door. She could sense someone out there, just on the other side. "If you're going to listen in, Arigold, you could at least do a better job of it."

When her sister opened the door, Mags couldn't be sure if her flush was due more to anger or embarassment. "Mags, you can't leave. I'll miss you too much. The world isn't safe for a woman alone." Arigold crushed her into a hug. "Please, don't. Stay here with us."

"But I can't," she said, her voice breaking halfway through. Mags took a few heartbeats to compose herself. "I need to go, Arigold. I have to. Thomas has already left. Someday, you and Mathilda will as well –"

"Have you told her what you're going to do? Was she happy when she learned you'd abandon us for a few cheap conjurer's tricks?"

The spite in her voice hurt more than a slap, and Mags retreated back a step. Mags wanted to snap back, to scold her sister for daring to suggest that she'd be so heartless, but she hadn't yet told Mathilda of her intentions. She kept quiet, waiting for the verbal lashing she knew she deserved, but the next voice surprised her.

"Mags isn't abandoning us for 'conjurer's tricks,' Arigold. You really should know our sister better than that." Mags went rigid at the sound of her other sister's voice. She'd wanted to speak with their father first, secure his blessing to continue her studies before she brought the subject up with her siblings. Mathilda met her eyes for just a second, and a flash of understanding passed between them before she turned back to Arigold. "I'm surprised at you. You know as well as I do that she slaves over the children in the town that need help. You saw her at the Sadale boy's bedside when he got so ill last winter, and you ought to know that our Mags would never leave us behind if she didn't think she needed to."

Anger simmered in Arigold's features, but it was their father that spoke next. "I agree," he said. "You have something special, Mags. I don't know enough about magic to say what exactly it is, but even I can see you're something different. I love you and want you here, but I'll never stop you from helping so many others by developing those gifts."

Her eyes filled with tears, but none spilled onto her cheeks. "Thank you, Papa."

"You're really going to go through with this? It isn't safe, Mags. You can't travel by yourself. Where will you even go? You have no money, no way of supporting yourself. You can't know that any sorcerer will want to take you on as their apprentice. Why would they? You're special here, but out there you probably aren't." Arigold closed the distance between them until Mags was forced to look into her older sister's eyes as she spoke. "I don't want you to be eaten up by the world out there, Mags. I love you too much to see you tossed out like nothing more than rubbish."

"I know." Mags hugged her sister. "But I have to try. Otherwise, I'll spend my life wondering what could have happened. Maybe out there, I will be nothing. Then I can come back here and carry on as I have been. But maybe I won't. I think that's worth it, at least for me."

Their father nodded. "Then it is for me as well. When will you leave?"

She looked to Mathilda, who only gave her a gentle smile. "As soon as I can, I suppose."

"Tomorrow?"

She grinned. "In a hurry to get rid of me, are we?"

Arigold rolled her eyes. "I think Papa's just trying to figure out what you mean by soon."

Mags thought for a moment. "About a week, perhaps? That way, I can say goodbye to everyone in town, pack, be ready to leave this all behind."

"And be ready to find something new," added Mathilda.

She nodded. Yes, that summed it up very nicely indeed.

.oOo.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I'd love to know what you think! This chapter was written using the prompt 'explorer' from Caesar's Palace.

~finnicko-loves-anniec


	3. Chapter 3

Mags let her pack fall to the ground and sat down next to it, rubbing her sore ankles to relieve some of the ache. She should be within a day's journey of Taramin, maybe even less. Tomorrow, she would find the library at Tamarin. Hopefully, her reception there would be well worth her weeks of walking.

In a way, she hoped they rejected her. Then, she could go home, content that she had done everything she could to improve her powers. It would sting, certainly, but Mags knew what lay waiting for her at home. A life as the village's soothsayer was far from glamorous and held none of the exotic charm of the outside world, but it was comfortable and familiar.

A much greater part of her hoped to continue to explore beyond the limited opportunities of Lilton-on-Carath. Her boots have been worn thin with new discoveries, but they have only whetted Mags' hunger for adventure. Perhaps, even if Shogart turned her away, she would be able to continue to wander about Panem, mending broken bones and healing sick children to make a life for herself. But the library offered so much more. From years' worth of gossip and hearsay, Mags had managed to piece together a good idea of what she would encounter once she reached Tamarin. Inside the city's tall stone walls lived twenty thousand people, nearly as many as any other city in Panem. The library, it was said, held more manuscripts, more knowledge, than any other depository in the world. Shogart, the guardian of the vast library, could teach one all there was to know of magic. If she was accepted as his student, her opportunities would be nearly limitless.

Mags stretched and forced herself up. Brushing herself off, she hoisted her pack back onto her shoulders and started down the road again. Dozens of carts rolled past her, each filled with goods to sell at market. She choked on the dust the horses kicked up, so she moved off the road. The ground here was uneven, and Mags found herself closely watching where she stepped. Perhaps she watched too closely, for she did not realize that one cart had stopped beside her. "Are you going to the town?" asked a man's voice.

She looked over to see a man watching her from his wagon. "Yes, I am," she answered, shouting to be heard over the whinnying of horses and the clap of hooves against stone.

"Would you like to ride with me?" He smiled, revealing dimples on sunburned cheeks.

Mags faltered for a moment. Her father had told her to be wary of strangers, especially men, but this one seemed nice. _There are plenty of other people about; he wouldn't dare do anything to me. _She grinned up at him. "I'd love to. Thank you very much." He helped her up.

"The pleasure's all mine. Matthew Donnaughey."

"Mags Crimwald." They shook hands, and she could feel the calluses on his palm and fingertips. When she met his eyes, she felt drawn in by their deep blue color.

"That's a lovely name for a beautiful woman."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Mags broke their gaze. "Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He grinned and looked down at the reins. "And you as well. Where are you going?"

"The library." At that, his eyes snapped back towards her. "Is something wrong?"

He blushed. "No, ma'am, not at all. I just didn't think you were the type to be going there." His posture stiffened, and he focused on the road ahead.

Mags studied him for a moment, confused by the sudden change. "What do you mean when you say I don't look like one of them?"

"Nothing, I'm sorry. I just thought…" He blushed and clutched the reins tighter.

"You thought what?"

Matthew glanced over at her shyly. "I just assumed that you were like me. A farmer, maybe, or a shopkeeper's daughter, something like that, but you're obviously not. I'm sorry."

"My father's a fisherman," she said softly. A smile spread across his features at her words, so she continued. "I've been practicing magic since I was a little girl, so I thought I'd go to the library to learn as much as I can. I don't know if Shogart will accept me, though. I think he probably won't. I'm just a poor girl from a little village that nobody's ever heard of, and from what you've said, he only takes on students from the upper classes. What would they want with me?"

"I could have been wrong. I don't go near the library all that often; they could have a hundred students that are all like us that I've just never seen before. Anyways, who wouldn't want you?" His cheeks burned. "I mean, not in a personal way, of course. Not that people wouldn't be interested in you – you're lovely. I mean –"

Mags put a hand over his. "Thank you."

He blushed. "I'm sorry. I meant that Shogart would be lucky to have a student as passionate about magic as you are."

"I understood what you meant, and I'm flattered." Now, they were passing through the city gates. Mags looked away from Matthew to admire the sights around her. Everywhere, people milled about, some hurrying through their business, others lazily enjoying the sunny day. The buildings were packed tightly together, leaving nowhere but the street for children to play and livestock to wander, and she could see towers taller than any tree in the forest poking out from in between the smaller homes and businesses.

"Never been here before, I'm guessing?"

She nodded, not looking away from the street. "No, never."

"Liking it so far?"

Mags turned back to him and grinned. "I'm loving it. It's beautiful."

He shrugged. "It's definitely got its good sides and its bad. I suppose that sometimes I don't really see the good parts anymore, after living here for so long."

"Maybe not." Mags realized just how long they had been in the city. Surely, the library could not be far away. "Thank you so much for allowing me to ride with you. Do you know which direction I need to walk to get to the library?"

"I'll take you there myself, if you'd like."

"I don't want to be any trouble."

"I'm already in the city, might as well make sure you get where you need to go." Matthew grinned at her and winked. "A few extra minutes with wonderful company is certainly a hardship. I don't know how I'll bear the pain."

Mags laughed. "I suppose that your suffering is a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Matthew maneuvered the cart through winding side streets and wide boulevards. As the buildings grew taller and more ornate, Mags realized that they must be drawing close. Unconsciously, she began to bite down on her thumbnail, worrying about what awaited her. "Don't worry. They'd be lucky to have you."

She forced her hand back to her lap. "Am I really that obvious?" Despite her best attempt to sound flirtatious, Mags knew her voice sounded strained.

He nodded. "We're almost there. It's the building up there and to our left." Matthew nodded in the direction of a huge stone building with hundreds of windows that reflected the sun's light so that it shimmered like a diamond. Mags' stomach tightened, and she bit down on her lower lip. _Oh, Spirit, please let me be prepared for this. _Ready or not, Matthew had stopped the horses. It was time. "Good luck," he said.

Mags, her throat too dry to thank him, nodded and tried to smile instead. She shook his hand and unsteadily stepped down from the wagon and took a few hesitant steps towards the cast-iron gates that surrounded the library and its grounds. "Mags?" he asked. She turned back towards him. "If you want some company while you're here, or need some help getting home, or anything really, I'll have to stop at the market every day for the next week or two. I'd love to see you again."

"I'd like that too. It was very nice to meet you." Even beneath his sunburn, she could see the blush on his cheeks. Mags reached up to squeeze his hand, and she wished she could have stayed with him for longer, but the street was crowded, and other drivers were already impatient with them. "Goodbye!" she shouted as his wagon disappeared into the crowd.

Mags dusted off her dress as well as she could and checked that her hair remained neatly braided. It probably wouldn't matter to Shogart what she looked like, but a good impression certainly couldn't hurt. She reached into her pocket to rub the green stones for luck. A now-familiar shock racked through her. Though she was in a sea of hundreds, only she and the library existed. Mags tried to take a step forward, but her legs remained frozen in place. Before her, she saw herself looking up towards the sky. A mockingjay soared down from the clouds towards the other woman, but with a wave of her hand it burst into flames. As suddenly as it had appeared, the fire flared out of existence, and the mockingjay, seemingly unharmed, landed to perch on the woman's arm.

The vision faded away. Mags gasped for breath, struggling to understand what she had just seen. Nothing made sense. She had never experienced anything like this before, and there was little time to decipher the vision's meaning. Later, she promised herself, she would give this more thought. Now, more pressing matters required her attention.

She wiped sweaty palms on her dress and stepped through the tall, heavy gates. Any other day, Mags would have stopped to admire the topiary garden of creatures she recognized from the old legends, but today, the dragons, phoenixes, and selkies held little interest for her. Bile rose in her throat as she neared the enormous mahogany doors. Mags pinched her eyes tightly shut as she stepped over the threshold. A heartbeat later, she opened them again to find herself in a cavernous room where stuffed birds stared down at her from above, their unseeing glass eyes following her every move. Shadows flicker against the walls and long reading tables. Today, the room is empty save for one man hunched over a book. She clears her throat, hoping he will notice her. "Excuse me?" she asks.

His attention snaps away from his book to study her. "We don't take deliveries here. You'll have to go to the back entrance."

"I'm not making a delivery. I'm looking to make an appointment with the keeper of the library, Shogart, I believe. I want to talk to him about apprenticing myself here." The man had stopped listening to her and turned back to his book. Mags waited for a moment for him to finish, but soon realized he had no intention of returning to their conversation. "So, if you know how I could find him or schedule a time to meet with him, it would be much appreciated."

"My dear, this may be difficult for you to understand, but we have no need for you here. There are dozens, even hundreds of girls just like you, simple farm children with a gift for setting bones or lowering fevers who are certain they have something incredible to give the world. They don't. It takes years of dedication along with an intelligence they lack to create powerful magic. You, I'm afraid, are just like the others. Now, if you'll please let yourself out, I'm sure you'll want to get back home soon." He turned back to his book.

Mags struggled to keep back tears. The birds' eyes felt accusing, and the only sound in the room was the rustle of papers as the man turned the pages of his book. She wanted to leave, needed to get out of here before she cried in front of this man, but her feet felt rooted to the ground. Tears turned to anger. How dare he dismiss her, all she'd been through, so easily? Had this man walked for three weeks for the possibility of an apprenticeship? No, he'd probably been delivered by a bloody coachman and still thought it difficult. Her hands fisted by her sides, and when she looked up again, the stuffed mockingjay caught her eye.

_There's nothing left to lose_, she thought, and at that moment, it didn't matter that she'd never tried anything like this before, or that it seemed impossible. Mags gripped the green stones in one hand and reached out with the other. The mockingjay burst to life, singing as it swooped down from its far above her head towards Mags. _And just in case that's not impressive enough;_ with a tiny gesture, the bird burst into flames. For a brief second, the room was awash with light, revealing it to be even larger than Mags had originally thought, but the space was again plunged into darkness as the fire went out. The mockingjay landed on Mags' forearm and, after she stroked its head in thanks, went rigid, just another clever piece of taxidermy.

The man smiled. "Well, I do believe we have a place for anyone capable of that here."

"So you will take me to Shogart?"

"My dear, you already have." He extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet such a talented young lady."

She hesitated for a moment before shaking the proffered hand. "And you as well. Thank you. My name is Mags Crimwald."

"Do not worry, Ms. Crimwald. I just wanted to see if you had the spirit and the talent I look for in my students. Everything I told you about the farm children was true; I do have to do a bit of weeding out before I can find the real gems." The sorcerer smiled at her. "Now, I'm sure we have much to discuss. Let's find a room that's a bit more inviting. I'm certain you'll want to start as soon as possible."

"Yes, yes of course." She set the mockingjay down on the table and allowed him to lead her further into the building. Mags could not stop the feeling that this is where her old life ended and something new began.

.oOo.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, and to Estoma for reviewing! I know it's been forever since I posted, but thanks for being patient with me. I'll try to be a little better about updating. Thanks again!


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